TheTrainingOfTanya2 (16 page)

As she drew all attention with her rampage, the lapping army of the Witch Queen flowed around their flanks. It spread itself wide and sealed in the army that stood against them. With the dawning of this realisation, the troops sought to flee, only to find the black guards on every side. Order was lost and panic reigned. The ground flowed like a river with tides of blood. The life of thousands mingled with the dirt to forge cloying mud that gripped at those who waded through it.

When the sun started to set, the battle had devolved into a soft half-life. The glowing orb wreathed the horizon with wild crimson hues and it was a shade to match the mayhem that stretched as far as the eye could see. In every direction, there was now an uneven landscape of twisted bodies.

The Queen's troops wandered amongst the red harvest and were dispatching survivors or torturing them slowly to savour their agonised squeals and make the air ring with the ghastly signal of their suffering. The few who had slipped the gauntlet were scuttling away as they were hunted by mounted patrols for sport, and in the middle of the grand carnage stood the demon woman.

Tanya opened the concealed chin guard of her helm and drew it free. Her face was dripping with perspiration and her limbs were weary now that her blades were no longer feeding her the life of those they maimed and slew.

Tanya propped herself up on them and surveyed the scene. She looked across the ocean of red and the stink of death was powerful in her nose.

The troops here had been fortunate. The peoples they had fought to protect were to be less blessed because the Witch Queen would now make their pain last a lifetime. By comparison, to such a doom, the butchered warriors had fared well today by meeting a swift end.

Rubbing the short stubble of her shaven head, she traced her temples with her barbed gauntlets. Memories arose as she stood amidst the shattered carcasses of a regiment of the Order Eternal. She herself had been one of these paladins and it seemed to have been aeons ago.

How her life had changed since those days of seeking to bring justice and law to the land, of doing good and protecting the weak and innocent. She had become that which she had reviled. She was the personal Champion of the force that the world feared above all others.

Letting her mind drift, she awaited the arrival of the Witch Queen. Her beloved enslaver was scheduled to manifest and inspect the scene of atrocity first hand. If she were deemed to have done well, her Master and Mistress would be present this night to pleasure her with their sadistic whims.

However, before the Queen was to arrive, one final deed required handling. Tanya vaulted onto a warhorse and reared the beast before galloping off over the hills.

Tanya kicked out and her heeled foot struck the heavy doors of the monastery. With a punishing wrench to the timbers, the portal jumped back. The weighty doors jarred against their hinges amidst a booming tone and announced her arrival in full and deafening clarity.

The gloomy interior hall was lined with supporting pillars. Mounds of candles upon pious configurations cast a soft, warming glow through the stone hall and banished the chill of the night.

Tanya stepped in and reached to her back where her crossed swords resided in their scabbards. The weapons murmured softly as the demonic beasts within the weave of metal craved new souls for their collection.

The monks ran for their lives. They fled into the wings and into doors and private cells. They dropped before the symbols of their deity and prayed for protection against this most unholy of messengers. All of them muttered her name as they fled.

"The Demon Angel," they whispered, as though by saying her name any louder they would draw her manifested wrath and speed the taking of their lives and souls.

A shaven headed figure moved before her. He was young and his eyes were full of fear. His arms were wide as he sought to bar her passage.

"Foul seraphim of evil, there is no place for you here!" he roared.

He was an intriguing sight, and one she would have liked to experiment. She considered subduing him and taking him in chains back with her to the Black Fortress. When she was not serving her owners, she might make use of him. However, she had other deeds to perform here and she needed no further distractions.

With a violent swing of her arm, a blade hummed against the air and his face dissolved into a smear. His countenance spread aside and lashed the floor with a plume of rent gore. The headless body twitched and its arms tensed in spasms.

A kick into his ribs sent the body to the floor. It skidded to a halt and deposited a crimson trail in its wake.

"Have you no shame, dark one?" stated a grim voice.

A far less feeble opponent stepped forth from behind a pillar that was located far from her position. He was tall and resplendent in a suit of expertly fitted silver amour. The burning heart of the Order Eternal was set boldly across his chest and a cloak of red flowed behind him. A breeze poured around Tanya from without and made the fabric ripple in the breeze. The candle flames flickered in the wind and this made his armour flash with sparks of light.

"You butcher a helpless priest for your amusement? Then it is true, the Witch Queen has purged you of all save evil, Demon Angel."

He stepped closer and drew a slender longsword and a parrying dagger with a wide guard that was curved drastically outward to catch an opponent's weapon. Both blades sparkled with an incandescent light and were each clearly possessed of their own sorceress charms.

The light revealed his face and she froze momentarily because she recalled it well. There was no mistaking the grizzled round face of the Grandmaster of the Order Eternal. The knight had helped train her, raise her, and made her one of the Order's paladins, he had been one of her idols in a time long forgotten. His bushy beard was thinning in places, his bald head was a little more scarred, but it was him without question. She wondered if he knew who
she
was?

"I am here for you, paladin," she stated with severity.

Tanya was still pledged to the act of murder that her Queen had demanded. She must have known that the defender of this church was her former master and so Tanya promised to fawn on her heels with added delectation for such sly trickery.

"It is not I who shall be food for the crows, lackey," he retorted.

Settling into a fighting stance, the Grandmaster readied to accept her charge. His blades whistled against the air as he spun them in his grasp and then clenched the hilts tighter in his armoured fists.

"We shall see," she growled.

Tanya flicked her blades up and closed upon him. Her dark armour absorbed the light and made her appear as though she was one of the shadows.

The two paused before one another and then Tanya lunged suddenly. She cast a sword for his heart while keeping the other held back to defend against any riposte. She had never seen anyone best the Grandmaster, but she was a far different creature now. She had been warped by the sorcery of the Witch Queen and trained to be a warrior without equal.

His dagger hissed aside and slammed to the blade. Knocking it away, the weapon jolted back to continue its defence while his sword hacked for her throat. The distraction he intended for with a shot for her face was declined. Tanya skipped back, dragged her weapons with her, and left the longsword to hum upon the air and cut through the space she had deserted. Tanya dropped into a nimble crouch and lunged for his belly with a harsh stab.

The Grandmaster swung in a downward swipe. He caught her weapon with his sword and pushed it away. The altered trajectory was sufficient to have the tip jab ineffectually passed his flank.

The warrior made a sudden step forward and hauled his sword in a whirling overhead circle. The blade plunged down at the squatting female.

Tanya slashed up with her second blade and knocked the weapon aside so that it clanged to the stone next to her. It threw up a brief cough of sparks and suddenly his leg kicked out like lightning. The boot struck her wrist and pained the flesh to a degree that knocked her overextended blade from her hand.

The dark weapon clattered across the floor and skidded into the shadows. Without hesitation, she sprung up. Tanya led her attack with a vicious kick that sunk into his breastplate and lifted the mighty warrior from his feet.

A brief flight of a few feet ended with an awkward landing. He staggered back and struggled to recapture his balance.

Giving no respite, Tanya launched herself forward and whirled her blade in swift arcs before hacking at his guard. The dagger wilted in its task as she dropped three pernicious blows to it.

He responded with defiance and thrust for her heart. With a lash of her forearm, her vambrace caught the flat of the weapon and deflected it. The same limb suddenly jumped forward and smashed the elbow to his brow. A crunch of flesh sounded and his head jolted back. The spiked armour had not only dazed him, but had also opened several light gashes.

Tanya could see a chance for victory. She grabbed her sword in both hands and held it as a battering ram before throwing it at his chest with a yell of exertion.

The aged warrior suddenly sidestepped and his sword danced in his grasp before striking out. The weapon struck the side of Tanya's helm. The tip gouged through the metal and her skin to open a long gash from her jaw to her temple.

The force of the blow sent her careening away before she dropped onto her flank and slid along the floor. The metal spines released grating shrieks against the stone as she rolled to a stop. The Grandmaster recaptured his senses and advanced.

Tanya opened her helm and flung it free. The torn edges troubled her wound and she felt warmth drool down into her breastplate to mingle with the sweat of the fight. The pain was negligible, for she had endured far worse and relished it. Nevertheless, she had to win. To fail would let down her owners and that was a fate she could not face. The Queen ruled her, and her Master and Mistress owned her.

"By the Gods! Tanya!" he gasped when she looked up to regard her opponent's position.

"No longer!" she hissed.

"You do not need to continue like this. We can take you back and reverse what has been done to you."

"You think I want to go back to celibacy and abstinence? They've done things to me I couldn't believe possible, and I've enjoyed it. I abase myself at their feet and serve them with all my heart because I love them, old fool."

"No, it cannot be so!" he stated defiantly.

The puritan warrior was unable to process how someone could be so methodically corrupted. It meant that anyone could be converted just as she had been. Tanya needed a few seconds to recover, and upon seeing his aghast and revolted expression, she chose deliberately to use words to offend with their lewd crassness.

"Oh yes. They fuck me, they whip me, torture me, and I crawl on my hands and knees, on a leash. I am their pet, their plaything, their willing little
slut
. Any foul depraved act they want of me, I surrender to it with passion in my heart and wetness between my thighs!" she purred.

Tanya let her free hand run over her armoured breasts and thighs in a wanton manner. She slithered upon the floor to offer a licentious show that made the Grandmaster stagger back as he witnessed it.

Tanya leapt to her feet and slashed aside to knock the smaller of his two blades askew. A swing of his sword failed to meet her as she whirled and with a scream of rage, jerked her head forward. Her brow broke his nose with a brittle crunch. In that instant of incapacitation, her blade jolted back and fired forth once more. The tip clanged against his breastplate and with a clap and a pulse of purple light, it burst through. The blade instantly exploded from his back amidst dark spray.

The warrior roared and his cry threw red flecks up into the air. The droplets turned into a font as she wrenched the blade in rotating arcs and then tugged it free. The length was now soaked and dripped with thick strands of his blood.

The Grandmaster dropped to his knees. He regarded her with astonishment and an accusing stare.

"Tanya," he gurgled softly, and then collapsed onto his side with a heavy clatter.

"Goodbye, old friend," she whispered.

Picking up her broken helm and lost sword, Tanya marched from the monastery. Her work done, now it was time to
play
.

About the Author

Born and raised in London, Bruce was a Royal Marine Cadet, has worked in demolition, rainforest preservation and for the Ministry of Defense, Harvey Nichols and Selfridges, but writing was always his one true passion. He encountered a wonderful Californian and after marrying, they moved to San Francisco in '98 where he worked and played in the S&M community before relocating to Seattle a few years later. He has written many books and illustrated a number for other poublishers. Several works are under development into graphic novels and computer animated series/films.